


Your First Everything

by Zetaori



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-13
Updated: 2011-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zetaori/pseuds/Zetaori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames plays a game with Arthur. Arthur calls it "nobody ever."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your First Everything

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to read/comment on LJ, you can find the story [here](http://zetaori.livejournal.com/4075.html").

"Nobody ever told you to take it easy?" Eames groans in frustration when Arthur doesn't stop laying out detail after detail for their next mission.

Arthur is well aware of the fact that he's talked for about half an hour straight, but it is necessary and it could save their lives and he doesn't appreciate being interrupted and looked down on at all.

"Actually, no," he says, his voice controlled and level.

"Then I'll be your first," Eames says and raises his arms in despair, "Take it easy!"

"Thank you very much for your input," Arthur replies. He takes a deep breath and returns his attention to the clipboard.

"You're welcome, darling."

Eames may have the last word, but Arthur has already won this round.

\---

Arthur thinks that Eames plays a game with him. Arthur calls it "nobody ever."

The game works as follows: Eames pounces on Arthur in the most inconvenient situations and asks him if "nobody ever (…)?". This means the game has started.

If Arthur ignores him, he loses. If Arthur answers, "yes, somebody already (…)" he loses too, because it would usually be a lie. The only way to play is to agree, "no, nobody ever (…)."

After that, the main part of the game begins.

\---

The rules are quite simple.

Eames will unerringly do whatever nobody has ever done, and Arthur has to show him it's nothing he wants or needs, and likes his life, in fact, better without.

If he flinches, if he shows any signs of liking it, or if he gets angry and runs away, he loses.

If he keeps his face guarded, if he doesn't move, if he shows it's not important to him, Eames will become frustrated or walk away, and then Arthur has won.

In the beginning, after Arthur has figured out the rules, he wins most of the time.

\---

It's not that different from their usual banter.

Eames teases and tries to hit weak spots, Arthur shrugs it off and thinks _I hate you_ , because he does. In a boiling hot red nagging maddening way. He tries to hide it, but Eames seems to know.

Arthur wishes he would leave him alone. He's tired of being the butt of Eames' jokes, of having to keep his posture and not scream, and he's tired of being criticised for everything he ever does.

He thinks Eames' attempts to get to him are childish and stupid, but that's how it's always been.

What's really different now is that Eames apparently deems it necessary to make their whole fighting about something else. Which Arthur really doesn't need at all.

\---

One time, in the middle of a perfectly professional conversation about their mark, Eames seems to find it necessary to express their mark's completely appropriate behaviour of respecting and admiring his boss by adding "Oh, and he sucks his boss' cock."

Arthur realises it's just an expression, but he wants to punch Eames in the face.

He thinks it is neither appropriate nor helpful to resort to those kind of words, and he tells Eames that.

"Nobody ever sucked your cock, darling?" is the answer he gets for his carefully phrased criticism.

He vocalises his distaste for this kind of argument, but there is no way Eames will give up before he gets an answer. So before it gets even worse, Arthur sighs.

"No, Eames, nobody ever sucked my cock, and I'm pretty fine with that, thank you."

Everyone stares at him, and he clears his throat and continues with his report. Damn it.

\---

At the end of the day, Eames holds Arthur back. "Honey, listen, I'm sorry," he says.

Arthur swallows and cannot believe what he has just heard. "You're sorry."

"Yes, I am." Eames leans in closer, and Arthur can feel himself backing up against the wall.

"Okay," Arthur says and it sounds more like a question.

"You poor thing," Eames continues, and Arthur wants to smack himself on the head. He's actually fallen for it.

"Don't be," Arthur says and wants to walk away, but Eames is far too close.

"Oh, but I am," Eames insists and moves his hand to touch Arthur's cheek. He can feel a blush forming at his neck and spreading over his face.

Eames leans in even closer, rubbing his thumb over his cheekbones just to increase the colour there, and his voice drops to downright filthy.

"I'll suck your cock and make you feel so good you'll hate every second of your life you have to spend without my mouth."

"I highly doubt that," Arthur croaks, still trying to get away from the probing thumb and eyes.

"Why's that, darling?"

"I'll tell you why," he says and regains his composure by adjusting his tie. "Because I neither want nor need anyone sucking my cock. My life is completely fulfilled without it."

"Mhm," Eames purrs dangerously close to his left ear, "But you don't know until you've tried."

Arthur sighs. If he ducks out now, Eames will think he's won. The only way to do this is to let Eames do whatever he wants to do, and keep telling him that he doesn't need that in his life. It should be easy enough. He's never particularly liked people touching him at all.

Until, obviously, now, because when Eames nips at his earlobe, he can feel his blood rush down, and a moan escapes his lips before he even knows what's happening. Eames gives him a smile, a happy one instead of his usual smug one, and Arthur suspiciously inspects it through half-closed eyes.

"Look at you," Eames whispers and sends shivers down Arthur's spine. "Oh, just look at you."

Arthur thinks it's a rather stupid statement, because how could he look at himself, unless of course, oh God, please don't let Eames think of the mirror in the back room, but Eames is obviously too busy letting his tongue slide all over Arthur's neck, letting it dip into Arthur's collar before he lets go of him and unceremoniously falls down on his knees.

Arthur thinks he's never seen something so hot and has to admit, against everything he keeps telling himself, that he needs this. Right now.

Arthur looks around for support, but the wall is completely flat and nothing else is within reach, so he settles for pressing his hands flat against the wall, while Eames opens his pants with his _teeth_.

Arthur stares down in disbelief, for the first time letting himself look at Eames' mouth, his full lips and the wet red tongue that probes his growing hardness through silk briefs.

He decides to look away again and breathe.

It's already pretty apparent that there is no chance to sell his feelings as something else than what they are.

Which is, if Arthur is not completely mistaken, very pure pleasure and raw need, especially judging from the way his body shakes under Eames' touch. Eames must notice it too, but he doesn't stop to celebrate his victory, he just keeps on mouthing and licking until Arthur groans and takes Eames' face into his hands to make him look up to him.

"I thought you said you would suck my cock, not tease me until I have to punch you."

Eames laughs, a deep and comforting sound. "Yeah, I know."

"Good," Arthur says and thinks he cannot even remember what they are talking about. When he tries to unclench his fingers around Eames' face, he finds it impossible and just holds on.

Eames doesn't seem to mind and reaches around to grope Arthur's ass and pull him closer while he tugs down his underwear.

Arthur relaxes slightly, the back of his head thumps softly against the wall and he can feel his hips buck forward.

He takes a deep breath. He's never thought he'd end up here, panting and moaning and squeaking a little bit when Eames finally swallows him down and sets a pace, but here he is and he feels so good.

The rest is a haze of assuring himself he can do this, he can hold on, he won't just collapse or something similarly undignified, and thoughts blurring his consciousness that he's never had before.

Very simple and clear and inappropriate thoughts, mainly fuck fuck _fuck_ , and _oh God oh God oh God._

He may have moaned a lot of that, too, because Eames hums approvingly, and that sends sparks all over his body.

In the end, he comes so hard he actually feels physically exhausted, and it takes him a few seconds to loosen his grip on Eames' head so that he can stand up.

"Um," Arthur says and is instantly distracted by the way Eames licks his lips. _Jesus Christ_.

"Yes, dear?" Eames is busy pulling Arthur's clothes back up. Arthur's eyes dart towards the obvious bulge in Eames' pants.

"Um," he repeats. He's actually waiting for the teasing, the I-told-you-so's and the general celebration of his grandiose losing.

But Eames just looks at him for long seconds, his hands raising to the sides of his face, never actually touching, and then he leans in and gives Arthur a quick kiss on the cheek.

Before Arthur can form a coherent sentence, he's gone. Arthur sinks down at the wall because he just cannot stand upright any longer, and he's shaking all over.

This time, Eames wins, but Arthur feels as if he had won a little bit, too.

\---

"I'm just going to take a shower," Arthur says and opens the door to his hotel room.

Eames' room is a few doors down the hallway, but he follows Arthur into his room without hesitation. Arthur runs his hand through his hair and sighs.

Next time, he'll book the hotel rooms in different hotels, he swears to himself. All the way across the city. Or, even better, country.

He thinks he's made it pretty clear Eames is to wait somewhere else, but apparently he won't waste the chance to go through Arthur's things while he's under the shower, or whatever else crosses his mind.

Arthur thinks he doesn't want to know, until it turns out that the things crossing Eames' mind involve following him into the bathroom.

"So," Eames says slowly and grins in a way that make Arthur's insides clench, "nobody ever watched you take a shower?"

Arthur doesn't say that this game is becoming increasingly ridiculous and objectionable and that in his opinion being watched in the shower isn't something anyone would ever consider part of any kind of lifestyle concept.

Instead, he blinks. "No, Eames, nobody ever watched me take a shower."

He literally cannot believe that Eames wants to change that, but then he finds himself stripping under the predatory gaze of Eames, who's sitting on the lid of the toilet, obviously feeling very comfortable there.

Arthur tries to ignore him. He's not putting on a show. He's going to show him how being watched while showering is boring and uninteresting and something nobody needs to do.

He's _so_ going to prove how he couldn't care less.

He steps in the shower and wants to pull the curtain when Eames is suddenly in front of him, stilling his hand.

"You know," he says, "I can't watch you when you're hiding behind a curtain."

Arthur opens his mouth to tell him there is no way he'll take a shower just like that because it would be such a _mess_ , but then he closes his mouth again and turns on the water instead.

After a few seconds of adjusting the heat, he finally stands under the jet and runs his fingers through his hair. Then he tilts his head upwards to let some of the water run into his mouth, just to spit it out again.

He likes taking showers, and there's nothing wrong with showing it.

He blinks against the water in his eyes to at least take a look at the chaos he's creating, but instead of the wet floor, his attention is suddenly concentrated on Eames, who has opened his pants, taken out a very hard cock and is stroking himself slowly. Arthur can see it leaking from here.

"What exactly do you think you are doing?" he shouts over the crackling of the shower.

"Watching you take a shower," Eames says, his voice deep and raspy. "So don't you dare stop."

Oh, Arthur thinks. He should have known, really.

Arthur's body reacts to the sight of Eames' relaxed form and his intense stare, and he can feel himself getting hard. He's pretty sure Eames sees it. That he chooses not to comment makes Arthur realise that it's not defeat yet because it could be an involuntary or completely unrelated body reaction and couldn't be held against him.

All Arthur has to do to pretend no one is watching him, so he continues showering and Eames continues jerking off to him showering, and in the end Arthur is completely clean and smells like a beautiful summer's day and Eames has come all over his pants.

That's a clear victory for Arthur, and he loves every second of it.

\---

"What is this?"

Arthur watches Eames rummaging through his things with minimal interest. His mind is still full of the picture a few minutes ago, Eames' dark eyes fixed upon him while he slowly strokes himself to the sight of Arthur in the shower.

He props himself up to eye the object Eames is holding. "That's a lint brush."

"Oh," Eames says, drops it on the floor and picks up the next object.

"And what's this?"

Arthur sighs. "Moisturiser."

The little tin goes down on the floor next to the lint brush. Arthur thinks about asking Eames why the hell he's going through his stuff like that, but he decides it's not worth it.

Eames has finished his bag and points at something in the corner of the room. "And what's this?"

Arthur follows the line of his finger. "A violin case."

"Nobody ever …" Eames begins, and Arthur interrupts him, "...told me I have weird things? No."

"You have the _weirdest_ things, darling," Eames corrects.

"Yeah," Arthur says, and he doesn't have to fake anything this time because he honestly doesn't care at all.

Arthur lies back down on the hotel bed, the mattress a bit too soft for his taste, but right now it feels like heaven. He should be relaxed after the shower, but there's Eames in the room and the images in his head.

And he's still hard.

\---

Over days and weeks, Arthur begins to understand why Eames is doing this.

It's not that much about teasing or making Arthur feel stupid and inexperienced. It's all about how Eames has already done everything there is to do in life, and is bored out of his mind.

Arthur suspects that making him do something new makes it new for Eames too and Arthur can understand that. That doesn't mean he thinks it's good or even okay to use him like that.

But at least he understands.

And he can't help loving it and wanting more.

\---

Arthur's hands clutch the sheets, crinkling it beyond any chance of ironing, nearly tearing it apart, while Eames' tongue traces along the curve of his hipbone.

He cannot complain. He's asked for it, but that he still cannot really believe.

He blames it on his body because he's been so painfully hard from the way Eames has touched himself, and Eames going through his stuff hasn't turned him off as much as it should have.

All he could think about, and all he can think about right at this moment is the way Eames' mouth feels around him, his tongue rubbing and teasing all the best spots, and his teeth grazing ever so slightly over the sensitive skin.

Arthur groans remembering the embarrassment of asking Eames, but since the round was lost anyway, there's no harm in asking for a repeat performance.

Of course Eames has wiggled his eyebrows in response and, God, he still hasn't lost that smug grin Arthur notices as he looks down, but it's already worth it.

And, Arthur hopes, maybe giving the hint once will be enough forever, and his life from now on will be full of amazing blowjobs, but he's also very aware of how little the chance is that Eames will miss out on having Arthur beg for it.

  
When Eames finally goes for it and Arthur buries his fingers in his short hair, he thinks that maybe he's totally fine with begging for it the next time.

If there was ever something worth begging for, it's this, he thinks, and his hips buck up to press deeper into Eames' mouth.

Eames holds him down and strokes lazily over Arthur's thigh that starts to shiver from soft contact. Arthur groans at the impossibility to move.

It's somewhat different from the first time, when it was all about making Arthur come as fast and hard as possible, because Eames seems to take his time exploring and teasing, testing Arthur's reaction to different touches. Arthur thinks it's all great and moans quietly, but that doesn't seem enough.

After the most perfect slide and press of tongue, Eames has the audacity to actually stop, look up and ask, "You like what I'm doing?"

Arthur grunts and shoves him down again, this time making sure to encourage him very vocally whenever this weird intoxicating rush of _fuck yes_ rushes over his body.

Eames instantly uses all the new information to his advantage, making Arthur completely incoherent within a few minutes.

He closes his eyes and throws back his head, his hips and hands urging Eames on.

He can feel himself slipping away, losing it, and he's so very fucking close when Eames stops all his movements and moves up to let his hot breath ghost over Arthur's face.

"So," he says, "nobody ever kissed you after you've come into their mouth?"

Arthur wants to say that this is fairly obvious after he's admitted he's never had a blowjob before, and he thinks it's not playing fair to bring this up again, and especially now. But what he manages to say is a whimpered "no", and Eames smiles happily and slides back down.

It takes a few more movements, with Eames finally allowing him to thrust up into his mouth and mumbling encouragingly around him, and Arthur comes with a deep moan.

He opens his eyes in time to see Eames swallow around him. He continues to lick him clean, which makes Arthur gasp helplessly, and then he falls down on his side, propped up on an elbow, looking down at him.

"Arthur," Eames says, his voice deep and raspy, and then he leans in to kiss him.

It is, Arthur suddenly realises, their first kiss, which should upset him more because this is just not the right way to have your first kiss.

Eames' lips are swollen, red and wet, and when Arthur feels them pressing against his lips, he cannot help darting his tongue out to trace the warmth and taste, and Eames moans back at that.

The sound makes Arthur want to try more, push in deeper, and Eames grabs the back of his head and pulls him in, at the same time pushing down on him so hard it makes Arthur quite breathless, and Eames opens his mouth and lets Arthur taste himself off him.

They are both surprised by the helpless whimper Arthur makes when his tongue slides over Eames'.

This, he corrects himself, and his body shudders in response, is definitely the perfect first kiss.

Arthur loses again, but that's just for the record.

\---

They have to stay away from each other for a few days, mainly for the job, but Arthur is relieved to get a chance to pull himself together before he falls head over heels into something he isn't prepared for. But who's he kidding anyway.

He thinks about it.

How he feels a bit used, a proxy to enable new experiences for Eames.

How he started into this weird game completely sure that the life he was living was exactly the life he ever wanted.

How everything was shaken up and he feels like he's drowning.

Then he thinks about blue-green eyes, surrender and trust, waves of pleasure washing over his body and how some things become only the words used to represent them when their meaning is replaced by something new.

He counts the days, and when Eames is back, it feels good and nothing else.

\---

"So," Eames says, and Arthur groans because he knows exactly what's coming, "nobody ever fucked you?"

"No," Arthur says and feels the desire to hit his head hard against something, because this is just stupid.

Eames licks his lips, hovering over him, never quite touching him although Arthur wriggles underneath him desperately.

The sight makes Arthur want to reach out and touch those lips, but his wrists are pinned down next to his head.

Eames leans down, until his face is only inches away. Arthur can feel his breath coming hot and fast.

"And nobody ever," Eames begins again, "made you wait for them when they were away?"

Arthur shakes his head, his eyes widening at the sound of Eames' voice so close to him.

"And nobody ever," Eames continues, "made you want them so much?"

"No," Arthur says, trying to keep his voice steady while Eames comes closer and closer.

"And nobody ever," Eames says, and he can feel his lips moving on his own when Eames speaks, "made you shiver all over?"

"No," Arthur says again.

"Do I make you shiver?"

"Yes."

"Mhmm," Eames purrs and finally presses down on Arthur's mouth.

Arthur bucks upwards with his whole body, searching for the contact he's been denied the whole time since Eames had strolled into his hotel room and thrown him on his bed as if he'd never done anything else.

Arthur really has spent an inappropriate amount of time imagining this very scene, but there it was less teasing and more fucking.

Now he's more than willing to play along if that means he'll get all those things that he can see going on behind Eames' forehead.

"So nobody ever undressed you so slowly you wanted to tear all your clothes apart yourself?" Eames says and opens the lowest button of Arthur's shirt.

"Definitely no," Arthur says, and moans when Eames' fingers slip underneath his shirt.

Eames takes his time, and Arthur bats Eames' hands away to open the fucking buttons himself a few times, but Eames just smiles and reclaims his place and pace.

A few tantalising minutes later, they are both finally naked and lying on their sides, their legs entangled, their hands roaming over each other's bodies.

Arthur hears himself whimper every time Eames' hand travels down, and sigh in frustration when it travels up again.

"So," Eames begins again, "nobody ever saw you completely naked then."

Arthur thinks about it. "No."

Eames makes a choked little sound Arthur can't place, and then he gets pushed down and Eames is over him, his lips somewhere in his hair.

"That's really a shame," Eames whispers, and Arthur shudders in response when he adds, "just not for me."

It takes Arthur a few seconds before he realises what Eames is doing, which is kissing every inch of skin he can reach, and sometimes it tickles, sometimes it's awkward, but most of the time it makes Arthur grab Eames' shoulders, hard, and just hold on.

He's a complete mess by the time Eames has finished, partially because of the physical contact but mostly because Eames wouldn't stop whispering "nobody ever kissed you here," kissing the back of his knee, "or here," kissing the small of his back, "or here," pressing an open-mouthed kiss on his hip.

"Well," Arthur answers, " _you_ kissed me there," just to hear Eames' low chuckle.

Eames comes back up again for a real kiss, all wet and tongue, making Arthur arch into his body, and then he stops and looks him in the eyes. Arthur swallows.

"Nobody ever told you to turn around?" His voice is serious and deep, and Arthur can hear the barely contained urge to just get on with it.

"No," Arthur says. He's a bit nervous, but he wants this too much to stop now.

Eames feels the tension and lets his thumbs circle on Arthur's temple.

"Turn around for me, baby," he says softly, and Arthur's fear dissipates and there is nothing he would rather do right now.

He turns around to lie on his stomach, and Eames is over him, touching and stroking and letting him feel the warmth of his body reassuringly, and Arthur finds himself relaxing and trusting.

Eames nudges his legs apart and kneels between, stroking his back and thighs before leaning over to drag his teeth over the nape of his neck. 

Arthur breathes out, and Eames starts to rummage in the pockets of his pants on the floor for something without even breaking contact with Arthur's back and skin, and then his fingers are gone and return deep down, wet and cold.

"Nobody ever had his fingers in your ass?" Eames whispers while he pushes in, not even waiting for an answer.

Arthur couldn't have given an answer because he's busy arching away and into the unusual touch at the same time.

"Nobody opened you up for them," he continues, adding fingers and spreading, "and made you feel ready and wanton and desperate."

He removes his fingers, adds more lube and spreads him further. Arthur tries to breathe, but he can feel his body clench and tighten.

"It's okay," Eames whispers into his ear, very softly, and then he continues in a much deeper voice that makes Arthur shudder. "Nobody ever promised to make you feel so good and fuck you just like you want it and make you nearly pass out when you come?"

And without waiting for an answer, he adds, "Well, I will."

"Okay," Arthur says and really wishes he had the concentration to come up with a better answer.

And then Eames moves closer to give him an idea of how exactly he plans on doing that, and Arthur thinks it shouldn't be allowed to feel so good when he starts to press inside.

It should hurt, but he just wants it to go on and on, and he pants into his pillow as Eames urges him up to go in deeper.

"Just like that," he says and pulls out and pushes in deeper. They both gasp.

He does it again, and they gasp louder.

"Does that feel good to you?" Arthur ask breathlessly. He just wants to know.

"Oh Arthur," Eames answers, pulls out and slams all the way in, "you have no idea."

Arthur decides that's a compliment and moves a little bit, just to see how it feels, and that makes Eames dig his fingers into his hips and give a choked moan. So he does it again. And Eames starts moving in earnest.

Arthur pushes his head down, whimpers with every thrust, hears Eames groan over him, and then Eames reaches around and touches his dick and Arthur's head becomes empty.

He tries to concentrates on keeping upright, moving with Eames' thrusts and not coming, but all he can think of is how incredibly fucking good it feels and how he wishes it will never stop.

Eames' movements become faster, his fist grabs him hard and his breath is hot on his neck.

Arthur can feel a spike of pleasure vibrate through his whole body, and all he can do in time is take a deep breath, and then he comes into Eames' fist, his body clenching and shuddering with release, and Eames fucks him through the waves of pleasure until he presses his eyes shut.

Eames comes directly after him, deep inside, and the next thing Arthur knows is the nudge of Eames' shoulder against his.

Arthur discovers he's lying on his back, Eames close against his side, both their breathing still ragged and fast.

He can feel Eames' heart slowing down from its frantic pace, and he has to reach up, let his hand rest on his chest and then move it up to his face.

Eames bends over for a lazy kiss, and entangles their fingers when he lets himself fall back.

Arthur clears his throat, staring up at the ceiling. "Thanks."

Eames smiles. "For what?"

"For, you know, doing what nobody ever did."

"It was my pleasure, baby."

\---

Arthur wakes up from a dreamless sleep, his mind immediately awake, but he finds he cannot move because Eames is deliciously wrapped around him and still noisily asleep.

He tries to go back to sleep again, but it turns out to be impossible because of the snoring, the sun shining right in his eyes and the memories of yesterday night, which make him take a deep breath once they rush back to him.

He spends a few minutes looking at Eames, starting with his ruffled short hair and then the relaxed forehead, down over his nice nose to those lips.

The sheets are tangled somewhere around his hips, so Arthur has the whole of his chest to examine, too.

He can't keep himself from leaning closer, breathing in the scent of Eames that he's not  familiar with yet, and enjoying the heat radiating from the sleeping body.

He places a first, shy and light kiss on Eames' shoulder, a second right next to it and a third in the nape of his neck.

He nuzzles the soft spot behind his ear, goes on to kiss his temple and lay a hand on his stomach.

The skin is soft under his touch, and Arthur rubs careful circles, kissing his way down his jaw towards his neck, nibbling gently at his collarbone, and back up again over his shoulders.

Eames' snoring is replaced by a quiet purr, and Arthur is still rubbing and kissing and nuzzling when Eames tentatively moves his head and blinks.

"Hey," Arthur murmurs softly against his neck and continues to let his lips glide over the sensitive spots there.

Eames groans, throws one hand over his eyes and squints out from underneath.

"What's going on?" he says, his voice deep and raw from sleep.

A smile tugs at the corners of Arthur's mouth.

"Eames," he says very slowly, propping himself up and pulling his hand away to get a look at his face, "do you mean nobody ever woke you up like this?"

Eames groans again and tries to roll over, but Arthur holds him there.

"Nobody ever looked at you while you were asleep?" he insists, and Eames rolls his eyes.

"No," he admits.

"Nobody ever kissed you awake?" Arthur repeats.

"No."

"And nobody brought you coffee to bed, just to coax you into staying with them in bed the whole morning?"

"No."

"Then," Arthur says, giving Eames a short nudge with his shoulder as he crawls out of bed, catching his shirt on the way and pulling it on without even bothering with the buttons, "I'll be your first with that."


End file.
